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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29273268">Leave out all the rest</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/obscureshipyard/pseuds/obscureshipyard'>obscureshipyard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Beyond Skyline (2017), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crossovers &amp; Fandom Fusions, Dark, Emotional Baggage, Emotionally Repressed, Frottage, HYDRA Husbands, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Marvel Universe, Mildly Dubious Consent, Power Imbalance, Pre-Relationship, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, but kinda not, sex as a coping mechanism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:41:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29273268</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/obscureshipyard/pseuds/obscureshipyard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Brock is forced to face feelings he'd rather keep suppressed after Jack goes missing on an undercover solo mission. Brock races to save his SIC and not think about why the man is so important to him. When he's finally confronted with Jack as his undercover identity--Harper--Brock finds he can't hold back everything that's been building up inside. What's worse, Jack doesn't want him to.</p><p>Totally in the MCU, 'Beyond Skyline' setting and names are more just set dressing, so no killer aliens in this one (sorry)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harper/Mark Corley, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Leave out all the rest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ok, so in the gag reel during the end credits of 'Beyond Skyline' there's that line flub between Callan and Frank where Frank says: “What are you doing here?” and without missing a beat Callan responds: “Psht, just acting and shit.” and they both laugh. I saw that little gag… and then this came out of me.</p><p>I didn't include it in my crossover collection just because it's really a crossover in name only, literally just setting and names. Otherwise, it's pure Hydra Husbands classic.</p><p>Thanks to TemptedForTea for the beta/edits and encouragement!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack went radio silent two months ago. He'd been assigned his first completely solo mission that both SHIELD and Hydra allowed. Brock had been nervous about it from the get-go. He kept his mouth shut, knowing better than to try and interfere with decisions of 'the powers that be'.</p><p>Showing any form of connection or favoritism wouldn't end well for either of them. So, Brock snuffed out all the queasy feelings in his gut. Time inched by and every moment Brock ignored the worry sitting in the back of his skull. Then finally, someone higher up decided eight weeks with no form of contact from an agent was too long.</p><p>Jack's mission had been undercover work, infiltrating a smuggling ring that networked through southeast Asia. Jack spoke a few of the languages. He'd trained in espionage. It all made sense on paper.</p><p>But now, the fact that a handful of the Alpha STRIKE team was getting pulled for recon and extraction proved things had definitely not gone according to plan. Brock offered himself to lead the mission. He was going to be the one dealing with the subsequent shit storm either way.</p><p>The entire trip out he was a mess of anger and fear. He channeled that sleepless anxiety into reading the mission intel over and over again. He memorized the roster of known players and associates of the smuggling ring. Every little fact felt like a connection to Jack. Brock would never forgive himself if missing one tiny detail was what ended up ruining the mission... or hurting Jack. By the time they landed in country, Brock felt ready.</p><p>It was a rescue mission. He'd accept no other rationale. Jack wasn't stupid enough to get himself killed... something just went wrong. Brock was going to find out what.</p><p>Twenty-four hours after landing, the plan was set. The small team would maintain a base of operations near the border while Brock went in alone. He posed as a buyer. Mark Corley, an American middleman with connections to international trade.</p><p>It was a cover story that had been set up at the same time as Jack's cover. Brock was more than pissed to learn that. There had been no reason for Jack to be sent in alone from the start.</p><p>Brock worked to channel his sullen mood into his cover ID. Mark was a businessman dabbling in the black market out of greed. He was a man familiar with backroom deals and business transactions that lead to innocent people getting hurt but never had he been on the front lines risking his life for a payday.</p><p>A rendezvous had been set before the Alpha STRIKE splinter group had left the states, in some nondescript cafe in Vientiane. Mark was to meet an intermediary contact for the network and if he was judged to be worth the risk he’d be taken to the boss.</p><p>The coffee was decent, but the contact was late. Brock’s brain kept him amused with every worst-case scenario possible. Maybe Jack was already dead and had been for weeks. Maybe he was discovered and imprisoned, tortured for days on end with no hope of rescue. Maybe he’d just up and disappeared and Brock would spend his life with a hole in his gut that felt like longing.</p><p>The contact finally showed. The old man stood in the doorway and glared at Brock for a solid minute before sitting at his table. His clothes were expensive but a bit wrinkled and dusty around his ankles. Long dirty nails stroked at the straggly bits of hair hanging from his chin.</p><p>Brock--Mark said the code phrase and the old man responded in kind. They then sank into an uncomfortable silence. Brock kept his teeth pressed together tightly and let a bit of his nervousness show. He wasn’t supposed to be a battle tested field agent here.</p><p>“You got a fire in your belly, Mr. Corley. You’re looking for something.” Small, button-like eyes stared at Brock without blinking.</p><p>“Looking to make some money.” Brock tapped his foot under the table and shifted in his seat.</p><p>The man kept staring, unblinking. “So you say. You’re going to make this deal happen no matter what anyone else wants.”</p><p>“I will.” And he meant it. Brock was getting to those tunnels one way or another. He’d pull Jack out of hell if he had to and no cartel or creepy old man would stand in his way.</p><p>The contact chuckled and tapped his filthy nails on the acrylic tabletop. “You should see the sights while you’re in Vientiane. Have you been to Buddha Park? It’s beautiful this time of year. Lots of tourists though, easy to get lost in the crowd.”</p><p>“I’ll have to check it out.” Brock dipped his head. He pictured the map of the city he’d memorized. Buddha Park was farther southeast and out of the city proper near the Mekong River and the border. Something that felt like hope was rising in Brock’s chest.</p><p>“Tomorrow morning, nice walk to take at sunrise.”</p><p>It turned out to be less of a walk and more of an abduction. Brock had walked the park, two members of his team posing as tourists patrolled the area. He knew about the three men following him from the second he stepped foot on the grounds. It took them nearly a half hour to get the balls to grab him.</p><p>Brock was split between wanting to escape their poorly planned trap just to prove a point, and to shout at them to just get it over with so he could get one step closer to Jack. Alpha STRIKE would never allow an operation so slow and sloppy. Brock literally had to find a position away from any easy sight lines and stand there for nearly ten minutes pretending to take pictures before the men moved into position to surround and approach him.</p><p>One of the men flashed the gun tucked into his belt as they instructed him to follow them out. Brock was grateful his sunglasses hid his eye roll. The gun was tucked into the front of the man’s pants with the safety off. A small smile threatened to twitch Brock’s lips.</p><p>A memory of a mission not too long ago. A similar situation except it had been Jack that was the intended abductee. He’d grabbed a hold of the gun and pulled the trigger. Brock remembered the squealing screams over the comms of the man who had his dick shot off before Jack silenced him with a merciful bullet to the head.</p><p>Brock stayed silent as they all loaded into a beat-up Jeep and drove away from the park. He didn’t ask where they were going. His team had his beacon locked and they were listening for his trigger phrases. It was only a matter of time before this was all over.</p><p>Hours passed. Brock was pushed out of the Jeep onto the side of a dirt road alone. The trees on either side of the road were thick and full of life. A prickling on the back of Brock’s neck was confirmed by the appearance of two machete wielding men stepping out of the dense foliage. Brock didn’t ask who they were, he just followed.</p><p>Traipsing through the jungle behind his two guides as they hacked their way deeper. Their tattoos Brock glimpsed confirmed they were members of the gang he was sent to infiltrate. He took a breath and felt more tension leave his shoulders.</p><p>Everything was falling in place. They headed towards the underground base. Each step was one step closer to Jack. Their silent trek offered him too much time to dwell on his feelings. Would he be here for any other member of his team? Would he be this worried? Would he be putting himself alone on the front line just to make sure things went off without a hitch?</p><p>This affection, preference--whatever the fuck it was--for Jack, Brock didn't know where these feelings had come from, or what ends they would lead to besides ruin. But the feelings were there. He hated them, but knew they were true.</p><p>The guides blindfolded Brock for the final portion of their journey. They were headed downwards, on some sort of rickety staircase. Dense, humid forest smells and sounds were replaced by dry air. The constant whirring of mechanical fans circulating what reeked of burnt metal wires and sweat.</p><p>His blindfold was pulled off as the back of Brock's knees were kicked forward, dropping him to the floor. A small group of armed men stood around Phay Singh; the boss Brock was supposedly here to bargain with. He stood just a few inches shorter than Brock and carried the air of an arrogant dictator.</p><p>His teeth were cracked and brown with a few gold molars twinkling in the dim light as he laughed at Brock getting back to his feet. Brock didn’t give a shit about his dignity when he was on a mission, but his cover likely would.</p><p>“So, you the boss?” Brock brushed the dirt off his knees. He scanned the room again as Phay stepped near.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m the boss.” He stood close as he spoke. Brock winced from the smell of rot coming from the guy’s mouth. It just made Phay laugh again.</p><p>“Then you’re the guy I need to talk to.”</p><p>They postured and exchanged broken English and Brock’s even worse Laotian by way of greeting and introductions. Brock offered up his falsified intel in exchange he learned bits and pieces about Phay's operation. It was slow going, Brock preferred shock and awe to espionage and interrogation. The air in the crowded space hung thick with tension. Brock walked a fine line as he traded barbs with Phay.</p><p>He needed the man to like him enough to not kick him out, but not so much that he would want to keep him too close. He needed the deal to be appealing enough to spark interest, but not so cherry that Phay would agree to it outright. He needed time, time to search for Jack, time to contact the team and make a plan.</p><p>He stuck to numbers and logistics, quoting international shipping regulations for every country he could remember, and always bringing up money, both the cost and the potential payday. They bargained and argued for what felt like entirely too long. Phay was looking irritable, pacing the room, and likely ready to toss Brock out on his ass.</p><p>“We talk more lat'r.” Phay barked quick-worded orders at one of the armed guards to his left. Brock wasn’t fast enough to catch what was said, but the gun waving in his direction answered more than a few of his questions.</p><p>Brock followed the guard through a few twists and turns in the passages. The earthen walls reinforced with mismatching beams kept the low ceiling in place. He was completely on edge due to the likely outcome that he would be led to a dead end and shot. Instead, he ended up at the entrance of a wide, open room. A trap door in the ceiling above let in streams of sunlight where Brock stood.</p><p>The guard shouted into the shadows of the room. It was filled with a clutter of tables, littered with distillation set ups and open flames heating glass flasks. There was a stirring in the shadows. Someone stepped forward.</p><p>The tall man’s lumbering body was wrapped in a blue striped button down that might have been just a bit too formal for the setting if it wasn’t so filthy and worn. He wore tan cargo pants, every pocket filled to the point of bulging open.</p><p>He moved closer in an uncoordinated saunter. Once he was fully in the light, Brock had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting. <em>Jack.</em></p><p>Brock shoved down any feelings like relief. Something wasn't right. Brock studied the other man closely.</p><p>The dirty bandana around Jack's head held back greasy hair that hung longer than Brock had ever seen it. Large square cut glasses sat on his face like they belonged there, attached around his neck by a long gold chain. On his neck sat mismatched strands of prayer beads. </p><p>The guard shouted a few more words at Jack before jerking forward as if he was going to strike at him with the butt of his gun. Jack flinched with his whole body, practically losing his balance backwards. The guard laughed loudly before pointing at Brock then wandering off into the lab, sniffing at the piles of white powder on the table farthest from the door.</p><p>Jack turned his gaze from where he’d been watching the guard to meet Brock’s eyes. His face was slack, and he looked tired. He didn’t even flinch when Brock spoke.</p><p>“What are you doin’ here?” Brock kept his voice low, not wanting to alert the guards or any listening ears nearby.</p><p>“Psht, just, acting and shit.” A big, goofy smile split his face. Brock had never seen Jack smile like that before.</p><p>“Are you fucking high right now?”</p><p>“When in Rome.” Jack’s accent was different, Australian maybe, lazy and slow to match his drugged visage.</p><p>Brock debated just shooting his way out and leaving Jack behind right then and there. <em>Fucking idiot, what was he thinking?</em> If Jack had his head, then Brock could likely get them both weapons and they could be at the designated secondary rendezvous sight within two hours. But Brock didn’t know it Jack had his head.</p><p>“They want me to try to sweeten the deal for you, get you high so you’ll agree to Phay’s terms. Ya wouldn’t happen to want any drugs, would ya?” Jack leaned in close to Brock’s space. He seemed to sway on his feet, limbs long and willowy. He’d lost weight since Brock last saw him.</p><p>“You with me Jack?” Brock clenched his fists to keep from reaching out. He was low on sleep and patience. Brock wanted to grab Jack by the shoulders and shake him. Almost as much as he wanted to pull him in close just to feel him.</p><p>“Probably.” Jack chuckled, looking more confused than pleased.</p><p>Brock wanted to ring his neck. But it would have to wait. The guard who had brought Brock to see Jack--Harper, his cover ID was named--shouted at them. Jack rattled back some words Brock didn’t fully catch. But from how he was shaking his head and gesturing to Brock he likely was conveying Brock’s disinterest in getting high.</p><p>The guard stared at Brock skeptically, then Jack. After a tense moment he grabbed his radio from his belt and spoke to someone on the other end. Brock eyed the man. He was distracted, focused on his radio. His left hand still hovered over the trigger of his gun, but he was alone. Technically outnumbered with Jack and Brock here, though Brock wasn’t sure what Jack would do if he attacked.</p><p>A hand landed softly on Brock's shoulder, distracting him. "Hey it's all good, mate." Jack’s tone was light, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His broad shoulders were turned away from the guard so only Brock could see his expression.</p><p><em>Not now.</em> Brock got the message loud and clear. It filled him with hope and worry all the same. Jack was in there somewhere. Before he could try and communicate back the guard was waving his gun in their faces again, ordering Brock to move. They left the room, and Jack behind.</p><p>Brock was summoned back to bargain with Phay. The room he was brought to was deeper underground. The ceiling sat high above the cavernous room. Rocky formations served as makeshift tables and chairs. Fires burned with women cooking to the far side of the space. Phay sat with a few men around him chattering and eating.</p><p>Brock was offered a bottle of lukewarm beer. He forced down a few swallows while he and Phay hatched out more details of the deal. Brock sat calmly as the men around him did their best to look intimidating. He kept vigilant but it was a struggle to keep the boredom off his face.</p><p>They again hit a stalling point in the bargaining, Phay getting fed up with Brock stonewalling him but far too greedy to let the deal die. ‘Mark Corley’ was apparently just the man Phay had been waiting for to help expand his empire. All the while, Brock learned valuable information about the operations of the gang through Phay's various brags and nonverbal tells.</p><p>It riled Brock to think about how much faster Jack’s entire mission would have gone if they had sent in two operatives instead of one. His irritation must have shown through to his face. Phay was ordering someone to bring him food and more to drink. He was smiling that brown-toothed smile.</p><p>“Stay here tonight. I give you woman--keep you happy.” Phay pointed to a group of young girls huddled together at the far side of the room near the cookfires. The oldest couldn’t have been more than fourteen.</p><p>“No, thank you.” Brock kept his tone even. He would broker no argument.</p><p>“Oh, you no like girls?” Phay laughed, deep and jovial.</p><p>“No, I don’t like girls.” Brock didn’t fuck prisoners, and he sure as hell didn't fuck anyone underage.</p><p>After an uncomfortable hour eating and drinking in the main gathering area, Brock was led through another set of tunnels to a private chamber. The guard shut the door behind him when he left.</p><p>Brock swept the room for obvious signs of surveillance, and finding nothing obvious, Brock pulled out his communicator. To the untrained eye it was just a shitty burner phone, but SHIELD was very good at making their advanced technology appear mundane. Within seconds Brock had a direct line back to his team at their temporary command center near the border.</p><p>He quickly relayed the situation, keeping the details about Jack vague. He confirmed the target was alive. He passed along the intel Phay had gladly bragged about during their bargaining. There was still a lot he didn’t know. Thanks to his beacon, they were able to track his GPS signal even underground. He set the team to work mapping out the area and getting as much intel as possible about a solid escape route.</p><p>Within the hour, he got a message back. No easy access or escape route. The tunnels were left over from various wars and expanded upon over the years that followed by various gangs and traffickers. No assistance from any outside government or agency would be coming. Too risky for a mission they needed to keep off the books. Alpha STRIKE team could be ready to mobilize in less than six hours for extraction.</p><p>Brock paused. Part of him wanted to stay, try and find out more about the smugglers. But he knew his mission, both SHIELD and Hydra wanted this to be over. He had orders from the director himself to make this a quick flash in the pan. Fast and fiery. If people died, they died.</p><p>He was to get Jack out if possible and return the team home to get back to work on their primary objectives. Brock sent out the order. Extract as soon as able. Brock would take care of Jack.</p><p>A commotion in the hall had Brock hiding his phone and lamenting not having a quick weapon on hand. The door of his room croaked open and someone toppled inside.</p><p>The door shut just as quickly to the sound of laughter disappearing down the hall. Brock looked over and the tangle of naked limbs that was Jack--Harper--stripped down to nothing but a dirty pair of boxers.</p><p>“What the fuck?” Brock said by way of a question. He stayed still on the far side of the room as Jack recovered to his feet. He still wore his glasses, and his prayer beads.</p><p>“Uh, so, when you told the boss you don’t like girls…” Jack’s voice trailed off.</p><p>“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Brock couldn’t believe this shit storm. Evac would be there in less than six hours. They just had to wait a bit longer with their covers intact.</p><p>“Yeah, I tried explaining it to him, but, ah…” Jack gestured to his exposed body, all lean and willowy. He looked up with a broken smile and something like shame. At least he had regained enough sense for that.</p><p>“I’ve only got a few more hours here, then I’m gone.” Brock picked his words carefully, wanting to see Jack’s reaction. Did he want to stay? Did he want to leave? What the fuck was going on in his head?</p><p>“Then no reason not to... since this will all be over soon. You can leave it all down here in these tunnels.” Jack moved closer. His fingers drifted to Brock’s waist and the fastening of his pants.</p><p>“I’m not gonna--”</p><p>Jack cut him off with a kiss. Deep and slow, probably the most coordinated thing he’d seen Jack do as Harper since he arrived. That searing kiss brought back one too many fantasies Brock didn’t want to recall.</p><p>“They’re watching, Brock.” Jack whispered as he moved along Brock’s chin, leaving a trail of kisses. “We don’t have to fight it down here. Just give in.” </p><p>Brock grabbed him by the neck, pushing his fingers in deep. The soft, vulnerable muscle gave way until Brock was practically digging into bone. The taller man cried out and twisted weakly to try and avoid the pressure.</p><p>Jack was right, they were still undercover, even here. The realization flipped a switch in Brock's head. Suddenly words were rising in his throat.</p><p>“I should punish you. Make you get down on your knees for me.” He used his Commander voice, strong and domineering. Jack shuddered under his grip. Looking back up at Brock from beneath his eyelashes, his pupils were clearly blown wide.</p><p>“But not tonight, don’t know what diseases you’re carrying.” Brock released his grip and shoved Jack towards the bed. “Take off the shorts, and the fucking glasses.”</p><p>Brock stalked closer, watching Jack as he stripped. “<em>Sit.</em>” He snapped. Jack did, immediately and eagerly. Brock stepped between Jack’s thighs, shoved them wide with his knees.</p><p>Pleading green eyes looked up at him. Brock felt a heady rush. This was so perfect it was dangerous. They were just playing a role, right? This was all for their cover wasn’t it?</p><p>Brock was expected to molest Jack, if he didn’t that would risk their covers and their lives. Yeah, he could live with that rationale.</p><p>“Open my belt.” Brock kept his voice low, but no less cruel. “Pants, too.” Jack made quick work of the job. He halted just once when his fingertips brushed over the thick line of the erection hidden beneath the fabric.</p><p>Brock tangled the fingers of one hand in Jack’s greasy hair, giving it a small tug to keep Jack on task. He watched another shudder run through Jack’s shoulders as he opened the layers of cloth to reveal Brock’s hard cock.</p><p>“Stroke it. Gentle.” Another tug at Jack’s hair encouraged him to action. One trembling hand took hold of the base and slowly dragged towards the tip. Brock let loose a low growl as Jack put a bit more pressure in his grip.</p><p>Wide green eyes looked up at him. Brock felt torn between stopping to apologize, and just forcing him down to the bed, taking everything, brutalizing until Brock was all out of rage.</p><p>How could Jack have fucked up this bad? How could he have been so careless to get lost in an assignment? How could he have become a twitchy, worthless addict? They were Hydra, they had a mission, a true purpose. How could Jack have turned from that?</p><p>Brock embraced his lack of guilt. Jack needed to be punished, and he seemed completely submissive with taking whatever Brock was going to give him. The flush erection swaying between Jack's milky thighs implied even more than Jack's dazed expression.</p><p>“Get up.” Brock yanked on Jack's scalp. The man stumbled to his feet. Brock took his place on the bed. He rested his back against the head of the bed, pressed up against the wall. He stretched his legs out on the dirty sheets.</p><p>“Come here.” He patted his naked thighs. Jack hesitated for only a moment. He straddled Brock's thighs, moved so their erections brushed up against each other.</p><p>“Got any slick?” Brock took hold of both of them in his hands and gave an experimental stroke. Jack shook his head with a pitiful moan.</p><p>Brock put a hand to Jack's mouth. "Get it wet." He ordered. Jack's eyes dropped closed as he set to work licking the palm of Brock's hand.</p><p>Brock had to grind his teeth together to keep control. Jack was being so fucking obedient, so docile, and goddamn perfect. Was it all an act?</p><p>Pulling his hand away, Brock replaced it on their dicks. Jack's uncircumcised head dripped pearly pre-come all over Brock's cut meat. Fuck, Brock wanted to watch him explode.</p><p>His dry hand snaked out and grabbed Jack by the hair. He forced the man down until his face was in Brock's neck. He growled words into Jack's ear. "You gonna be good, Jackie? You gonna behave?"</p><p>Jack whimpered and bucked up into Brock's grip. "You gotta do what I tell you, Jackie. Come when I tell you to come. Kill when I tell you to kill."</p><p>Jack's fingers dug into Brock's shoulders. Hot breath pushed and pulled between them until Jack's lips found his again. Brock squeezed tight, the spit and pre-come slick between them. Jack was a shuddering mess in his arms.</p><p>Brock dominated their kiss. He felt Jack starting to coil tight. His hips jerked in aborted little thrusts. He was close. Brock intended to see him ruined. Switching up his grip to hold only Jack’s leaking cock in his hand, Brock sped up his motions.</p><p>“Be good for me, Jackie. Come for me.” Brock whispered praise and promises into Jack’s skin. Jack came apart in his hands, a hot mess. His come left thick, pearly trails down his own belly.</p><p>But Brock wasn’t done. He shoved Jack's heavy body back until they both stretched out together. Brock loomed over top of Jack, mesmerized by the sweat and come-soaked visage laid out before him. Jack floated on a post-orgasmic haze, but there was hunger in his eyes as he watched Brock finish himself off.</p><p>Jack's clumsy hand joined Brock's in the final strokes as he exploded, sticky and hot over both of their fists. Brock muffled his cries in Jack’s neck. Minutes ticked by as he wound down. Jack pulled Brock’s hand to his own mouth, licking the come from his skin.</p><p>Part of Brock knew he should feel disgusted, or at least embarrassed. But a larger part just thought it was hot. Jack was still desperate to please, even after they both came. It was a whole new layer of the man Brock didn’t have the energy to deal with right now.</p><p>Sleep was pulling at him. Fuck it, he’d deal with it in the morning.</p><p>His phone alarm sounded a few hours later, a quiet hum in the darkness. Brock was instantly awake, but his body protested any movement. He felt warm and relaxed despite being crammed on a tiny cot. And he wasn’t alone.</p><p>Jack’s long limbs tangled around him like a vine on a tree. Brock took all the twisted, confused feelings from last night and tucked them away. They had thirty minutes to extraction, and he was taking Jack with him, all doubts gone.</p><p>“Rise and shine, princess.” Brock pulled away from Jack, intending to shove him with his free arm, though it ended up more like a gentle caress. Damn, Jack looked good, all scruffy with bed wrangled hair. “Evac’s headed our way. Get dressed, Jack.”</p><p>Brock forced himself up from the bed. He had a spare set of clothes in his pack. It’d be tight, but at least Jack would have something to wear. Brock heard movement from behind him, but it was slow, not a soldier jumping to action.</p><p>“I don’t know if I…” Jack’s voice was thready and weak.</p><p>“You can, you will. The shit that went down in these tunnels is about to be buried in them.” Brock felt more himself than he had in the last two weeks. He had the answers he needed. He had Jack. This was over and they were headed home.</p><p>“Do you regret it?” That voice sounded so horribly vulnerable. Brock wanted to pull Jack into his arms and hold him. But they both knew better. That part would have to stay down here, too.</p><p>“I don’t regret coming to get you. But I won’t be able to regret anything if we die down here waiting for you to put some damn pants on. Do as you're told, Jack.”</p><p>The way out was loud and bloody. Brock was pretty sure he was going to have some permanent hearing loss from all the close-range explosions and gunfire.</p><p>Hauling Jack after him, they'd made their way through countless corridors filled with very confused and very angry gang members until they reached an escape hatch on the far west side.</p><p>Alpha STRIKE team was brutal and efficient. They had set a rendezvous point in the tunnels where Brock and Jack would meet them, all other areas were ok'd to isolate and dismantle. All other lives in the tunnels were considered enemy or acceptable casualties. Brock paid no mind to the details.</p><p>Sunlight stung his eyes when they emerged. They waited next to the Rovers ready to drive the team out as soon as the last of the bombs were set off and the tunnels deemed clear.</p><p>He took a moment to take stock of their injuries. His left knee was killing him from where some machete wielding asshole had jumped out of the shadows. Brock had taken the guy down before he got a slice of him but twisted the fuck out of his knee in the process.</p><p>Looking at Jack, the man looked shell shocked. His temple sported a dirt filled gash, slowly oozing blood down his face. Jack didn't seem to notice. Brock did a quick once over with his eyes and quick grabs with his hands to every body part he could reach.</p><p>The rest of the team was falling in and jumping into the vehicles to roll out. Brock hollered the orders to 'head out'. Jack's hand sprang out to grab Brock's wrist. He squeezed tight. Brock didn't try to pull away.</p><p>"Thank you, Commander… for... for everything--"</p><p>"Don't." Brock cut him off. "We get back to home, you get your head on straight again, then we'll see what you thank me for." <em>Leave it all down there, ain’t no room for this shit in the light of day.</em> Brock reminded himself.</p><p>But Jack didn’t budge. His gaze burned into Brock’s, not giving an inch. "Thank you." The skin on Brock’s wrist burned like a brand even after Jack released him. Brock rubbed at it the whole trip home.</p>
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